Stealing Destiny: the not-exactly-heroic story of I'shiátt
by chaos Leader
Summary: The best things in life are always "taken". One "takes" an opportunity, "takes" chances, "seizes" the moment... Well, that's the ideal, anyway. This is the tumultuous account of I'shiátt, formerly an apprentice alchemist, beginning shortly after that one incident with the Senchal skooma cartel and the Thalmor Justicar. Things only go downhill from there.


_**Stealing Destiny.**_

_**Prologue: North Across the Topal Sea**_

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This one's name is I'shiátt. Most of my life up until a few weeks ago had been relatively dull and ordinary by Khajiit standards, so I won't bore you with too many details about it. Still, it would be impolite of me to say nothing, so I will say only a few things that I believe are important.

I am, or was I suppose, an apprentice alchemist to a most peculiar little Bsomer woman named Angveil. Angveil set up her shop in the bustling port city of Sechal about eight years earlier. She never said where she came from before, but she seemed to take her Valenwood eccentricities with her everywhere. Shortly after she opened the shop, she began to notice a skinny gray furred Khajiit boy who wouldn't leave her shop, and asked her a great many questions about alchemy, potions and ingredients. It was only a matter of time before Angveil gave up trying to scare me off with her deliberate acts of awkwardness –this _is _rowdy bawdy Senchal we're talking about after all, she would've had to resort to far more drastic measures than mere nudity to shock me from my insatiable curiosity– and then she made the little ten year old I'shiátt her unofficial apprentice.

Now, I said I _was _Angveil's apprentice, and no doubt you've noticed that I'm on a ship; as a passenger, I assure you. You've probably also noticed the brooding Altmer woman in the ominous black Thalmor robes nearby, flanked always by her trio of high-elven bodyguards, occasionally scowling at me in a kind of knowing, patronizing way.

There's a reason for these oddities, I shall explain.

I told you my life was dull: I had just previously summarized everything important in only a few sentences. Don't misunderstand me, alchemy is fascinating, uncovering the magical-chemical essences in so many items taken for granted, and then harnessing and distilling these essences into elixirs to be consumed by anyone. It is, quite literally, bottled magic. Fascinating as it is though, alchemy is not exactly a lucrative profession. Between the expenses of either purchasing ingredients or going on expeditions to gather them by oneself, and then keeping the prices of our stock down to stay competitive, it's a wonder Angveil and I kept the shop going as long as we did. I almost knew for certain fact that the strange little Bosmer lady had some sort of under-the-table dealings to help keep the business afloat.

Naturally, as Angveil's loyal apprentice, I assumed that I too would need to secure a more lucrative, albeit secret means of income to support myself. So I came up with a brilliant solution (if you'll pardon the alchemical pun, _solution_): I would sell skooma! Not as mere street-dealer or smuggler supplier, mind you, I would _produce _skooma. I had the equipment and skill to do so, all I lacked was a formula, a recipe. Trouble is though, skooma recipes are fiercely guarded secrets in Elsweyr, hoarded by powerful clan chiefs, or by surly underworld crime lords in other places across Tamriel. I also could not risk experimentation in creating my own skooma brew, as an improperly prepared skooma –which is made with highly poisonous nightshade– is quite likely to kill the consumer.

I needed my recipe, and the only means I had to obtain one was to steal one. There was a courier moving a copy of the recipe I had my eye on, heading to for one of the new skooma labs. I figured I could intercept him and copy down the formula, and get the original back to him before anyone was the wiser. I failed utterly, caught very quickly and easily. In retrospect, this was all an _incredibly_ stupid idea, but like most terrible ideas it made perfect sense at the time.

Oddly, I was caught not by the enforcers of the Ri'Renji estate, the slobbish clan that had the Senchal skooma production market cornered. I was confronted instead by a constantly scowling-down-her-nose Altmer woman named Salenar. She promptly informed me of her status as Thalmor, in case the ubiquitous black robe wasn't indication enough, and then escorted me back to the shop during after-hours.

More oddly, however, the first thing Salenar did after we were alone in Angveil's alchemy shop was to order me to brew a batch of skooma, according to the recipe I had just acquired. It was an awfully strange request for someone of the Thalmor, or so I thought at the time. Clearly she must have known I worked at the alchemy shop, and that I had some skill. In any case, I was happy to get to work as she ordered, excited even, but also curious as to Salenar's interest in all this.

When the skooma was finished, I proudly presented my handiwork to Salenar. She never consumed any of it though, a pity, she simply unstoppered the skooma vial and carefully smelled the contents. She seemed satisfied at the results, as well she should have been. I know a fine skooma when I smell it, and the Ri'Renji clan recipe hadn't steered me wrong.

That's when Salenar gave me the ultimatum: either to be turned over to the Ri'Renji estate, or to work on a special project for the Thalmor. Well, of _course_ I took the special project! The Ri'Renji clan do any number of horrific things to would-be thieves, I wasn't about to suffer that, not when other options were available. And besides, the project offered new and exciting opportunities, generous pay, and the adventure of traveling beyond Elsweyr.

The project involved creating a specialty skooma formula, one that would use sap from Black Marsh Hist trees. When asked why she wanted Hist sap in skooma, Salenar explained that this new brew would be specially reserved for the deadly Khajiit assassins and warriors recruited by the Thalmor. This had, in some sense, been done before, by a Cyrodiil-based mercenary group called Blackwood Company, in the third era. Members pf Blackwood Company would consume the Hist sap just before battle, and would be thrown into ferocious frenzied bloodlust. It made sense that the Thalmor, having recruited many Khajiit as agents, would preserve and utilize their traditional penchant for skooma. It also made further sense that Thalmor would offer something beyond traditional skooma, something to make the consumer fierce in battle, and that much more loyal to the provider. It was... fascinating. I couldn't wait to obtain samples of the Hist sap and begin my experiments.

Obviously, we could not _possibly_ travel into Black Marsh to collect Hist sap there. The kingdom of Black Marsh was vehemently opposed to the Empire, Aldmeri Dominion, and other allied factions. Even if it wouldn't have been a political disaster in that way, the Black Marsh Hist were all under the control and close scrutiny of the the An-Xileel, the Argonian ruling faction. Instead, we would travel to Leyawiin, where the only Hist tree outside Black Marsh is known to exist.

And that is how I came to be on this ship, sailing from the Elsweyr port city of Senchal, to the Cyrodiilic city of Leyawiin, north across the Topal Sea.

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The title (and even the protagonist's name) is from an earlier work, but it's completely new story. Didn't much like how the old one was going or how it felt, this one I'm pretty sure will work better.

As always, your feedback is most appreciated.


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